Crimson Dance
by Nugtrio
Summary: Lightning is now a lieutenant and gets sent on a mission that blows up into something big with the safety of everyone on the line. Not only that but she has to deal with a lot of personal issues as well, taking a toll on her stoic demeanor. Lightning x OC


_A/N:_ _New story for me, this time set the FFXIII, please read and review. More to come later. I don't owe anything in the Final Fantasy universe._

_Update: Hey, so for those of you who follow this story and not my final fantasy x fic, sorry for taking so long to update! But this story isn't dead so don't worry. I plan on adding a few chapters onto here before returning to the Children of Sin. Special mention to Darkgirl5 who was actually the first one to ever give me constructive criticism. So you know what? I'm going to take her advice and see if it turns out well. (Personally I think it would). Next chapter comes out in a day or two at maximum._

**1. This Is Going to Be a Long Day**

_Be-be-be-beep, Be-be-be-beep, Be-be-be-beep_.

Lightning's alarm was her worst enemy at the moment. Cracking a single sleepy eye open, she had to resist the urge to take out her blazefire sabre from its holster and empty an entire clip into the damnable thing.

It's five in the morning, and between Hope's sixteenth birthday party and Serah's newborn who's louder than Snow, Lightning barely managed to grab three hours of sleep. Her pink hair lightly frazzled and her icy blue eyes bloodshot, Lightning sat up and swung her legs from under the covers and set her feet onto the rug. She then took her fist and slammed it down on her alarm clock.

Stumbling her way across her spartan quarters into the bathroom, she went through the motions of brushing her teeth, showering, and putting on fresh underwear. Checking the time, Lightning was a bit disgruntled to see that she was running a little late and quickly slipped into her trade mark turtleneck along with her mini-skirt.

In the living room of her three-room bungalow, Hope was passed out on the couch, Sazh and Dajh were curled up together at the foot said couch, and Bartholomew was propped up against a wall. There were scattered plates of uneaten food, plastic cups tipped over on newly-purchased rugs, and all kinds of garbage flung everywhere in what was once the pink-haired soldier's favourite room of the house. Lightning scoffed at the sight, frustrated at her unruly friends. She would never admit that she was quite envious of them too, after all none of them had to train new recruits at sunrise.

Since she was running late, Lightning couldn't spare the time to brew her much needed morning coffee. Instead she had to settle for a couple of caffeine pills swallowed between bites of dried-up military rations. Then she grabbed her coat and ran out the door, setting a decent pace while strapping together belts around her waist.

She was set on giving Amodar a piece of her mind as soon as she gets the chance - _after _she takes it out on her green recruits.

* * *

Not a single word was muttered when Lightning entered the barracks. The green recruits had already lined up after wake-up call and breakfast rations. Words of "encouragement" from Captain Amodar the night before still very much fresh on their minds.

_"Tomorrow morning you will all experience firsthand why so many in the corps are downright terrified of the colour pink,"_ he had said, punctuating the seemingly ridiculous statement with the most serious look he could mustered in order to hammer the point home, _"do not, I repeat, DO NOT do anything to piss Lieutenant Farron off. Another training 'accident' and the higher-ups will probably re-assign my best soldier, and believe me when I say this, I will make your life a living hell when they hull your ass out of the infirmary."_

The lined-up men had heard rumours that their new lieutenant was a former l'cie that had saved the lives of millions - by bringing one of the most powerful fal'cie on Cocoon, no less. So understandably they were surprised that there stood not a eight foot tall giant gorilla-beast-of-a-she-male (with pink hair) they had been expecting. Instead there stood a lean, barely-taller-than-average young woman with flowing pink hair that's set on one side. She had a fit body, with curves most men would kill for, icy cobalt eyes, and exposed, toned legs that ran for what seemed like miles.

_Hell,_ the men thought in quiet unison, _I would have joined the corps years ago if I knew they had asses like this one walking around_.

Lightning expression twitched with annoyance as if she read the minds of the men lined to her right saluting her as she walked to the middle of the barrack. "Alright listen up," she spoke up with complete apathy, "You, take point. Three laps around the settlement's perimeter in gear." Lightning commanded, pointing to the recruit standing directly in front of her.

"Move it now!" and they were off.

It was easy for Lightning to out-pace the entire group, so she ran up to the leading soldier and started to back peddled in order to face the men, if she has to waste her time with these slobs, she was going to have some fun with them.

"C'mon I have seen little girls in better shape than you sack of potatoes." She taunted the men, clearly struggling to keep up with her and completely out of breath. They were still on lap two of three, Lightning was clearly out to kill them.

The settlement started to wake up as residents came out of their houses to investigate the loud commotion.

"Move in you maggots! Run! We don't have all day!" even Lightning winced at her own outburst.

"Hey you think it's her time of the month or something?" whispered one of the wheezing recruits. Bad mistake. Lightning instantly stopped in her tracks, gave the offending recruit a death glare with fists clenched.

"Alright let's get to base," said Lightning, to the relief of the men. "You owe me one more lap next training session. Sparring grounds in fifteen after we get back." Then turning to the man who was oh-so-curious about her menstrual cycle, "you, what's your name and rank?"

"Uh, Ro-Ro..."

"Speak up!"

"Private Roland ma'am!"

"Alright private Roland, you and I will demonstrate close-quarters-combat to start off. Have you any experience in gunblade use?"

"Ma'am yes, ma'am!" A tiny hint of pride showing through what was otherwise an expression of fear. Apparently when the recruits had their gunblade training, private Roland got the top score.

"Good, maybe if you win I'll satisfy your curiosity."

In twenty minutes, the soldier's have caught their breaths and have gathered around the sparring ring. Lightning stood in a corner of the ring, gunblade in hand, looking somewhat bored. Finally private Roland showed up and entered, interestingly with Captain Amodar in tow.

"Lieutenant Farron, finish this up quick. Something cropped up and I need you on it."

"Yes sir," Lightning replied, and then turned her attention to her opponent, "first fatal position wins, got it?" Private Roland nodded. Something about Lightning's tone made him terrified.

"Captain, if you would do the honours?"

"Draw your weapons, fighters ready... Begin" Amodar couldn't help but feel sorry for the green private.

Quickly turning her weapon from blade to gun mode, Lightning threw the weapon directly at her opponent's head. Startled by the unconventional tactic, Roland brought his sword up just in time to parry away the projectile.

The next thing he saw was a pink blur. Before he knew it, Lightning was right behind him with her back facing him. She turned around, and using her angular momentum, delivered a powerful kick to the back of private Roland's left knee. His knee buckled and now he was kneeling with his back to the her.

Again faster than the hapless recruit could react, Lightning grabbed his right hand with her left and the handle of his blade with her right. Stepping to her left and giving his arm a good twist, she managed to get the man on his back and his blade in her hand.

"Show's over folks." Amodar dismissed the recruits. Most of them had their jaws open, amazed at the speed and agility of their trainer. She's now straddling the private, pointing his gunblade at his own throat.

"Grab your weapon Lieutenant, airship is lifting off in five. I will brief on through your communicator on the way." Turning around to face Lightning for extra effect, Amodar continued, "you, lieutenant, are going back to Cocoon."

Lightning expression didn't change. However as she bend down to pick up her own customized gunblade, her mind raced over the possibilities. From the tone of her superior's voice it sounded as if there was an emergency. Why then send her back to Cocoon? Normally emergencies entailed monster attacks somewhere in New Bodhum or rescuing scouting teams sent out to gather resources.

The New Bodhum Airfield was quiet for the time being when Lightning boarded her ride, unlike most corps airships, this one was unmarked. The cabin was empty save for a back pack on one of the seats marked "Lieutenant Farron". She sat down next to it and shifted the pack that was presumably meant for her to her lap.

"Ma'am please strap in, we are taking off. Oh, and here put this on." The pilot said, leaning into her view through the doorway form the cabin to the cockpit. He threw her a communicator.

Lightning did as she was told.

"Lieutenant?" Amodar's voice came through the earpiece, "are you there?"

"Yeah, you mind telling me what's going on?" demanded Lightning, skipping the military formalities.

"PSICOM intelligence picked up some chatter. Word is a bunch terrorists are planning to take over Primarch Rygdea's office. Probably to assassinate the man over some ideological bullshit." Amodar started, "apparently the assassin's are holed up in an abandoned warehouse about three kilometres from the Capitol. consider this mission a pre-emptive strike.

By the way we have order's to mask your presence on the ground. The enemy have likely thoroughly scouted the protection detail around the Capitol, you can't go in there dressed up your uniform, it will just startled them when a new face shows up."

"Is that what this pack is for?" Lightning questioned, opening the pack.

"Yes, among other things. There's also a key for arranged ground transport, binoculars, and a few explosives for the big occasion. PSICOM intelligence on the ground will give you the full layout of the warehouse and whatever scouting report they could conjure up. Good luck."

With that the communication ended. Lightning then called home, Serah had just gotten up at that point. The elder Farron informed the younger that she was going to be late for dinner if she comes home at all. After that she peered into the pack and fished out her new outfit. Her turtleneck wasn't standard issue so it was no problem, her skirt and undershorts were replaced with a pair of tight fitting jean and her army boots with a pair of flats. Taking off her overcoat and cape, Lightning folded them neatly and placed them into the pack before pocketing the keys to a velocycle. Upon landing, the pilot gave her a luggage and told her to use it to conceal her gunblade.

Lightning disembarked with the pack flung over shoulder and luggage in toll. She was greeted by a man somewhat older than her. He wore a leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath and jeans. He was quite tall, almost an entire head over Lightning, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. Otherwise his face seemed quite attractive to Lightning, with a well-defined jaw line, strong cheekbones, and some-what well kept hair. It was quite long compared to most men in the military, reaching down to past his ears. Must be PSICOM intelligence, Lightning thought to herself, she has heard that these guys don't look like normal soldiers.

"Well would you look at that! Ol' Guardian Corps said they were sending their best man! Looks like the corps been holding out on us." The grin on his face instantly made Lightning dislike the man.

"C'mon let's get going, if they really want to kill the Primarch we shouldn't we standing here chattering."

"Straight to the point eh? Where's the fun in that? A bit of foreplay can go a long way you know?" The man in the leather jacket remarked.

"Whatever." Dismissed Lightning, brushing past the man and started toward where her velocycle. It's been a while since she's been back on Cocoon. Most of the populace still live on the dying planetoid, but more and more are accepting the inevitability of their long time home's demise and have settled Gran Pulse below. Little evidence of the crystallization can be seen from the inside, but a soft, orange glow can be seen during the night. It is also speculated that the crystal spire holding Cocoon in place is also supplying some of the magic necessary to support life. With luck, life on the planetoid can still be sustained for another couple of hundred years.

"We are going to go by codenames for the duration of this mission." Lightning's companion said, suddenly serious, "from this point on I will refer to you as Wolf, and myself Sheppard.

"The warehouse in question is three kilometres to the northeast of the Capitol with a clear line of sight to the Capitol building itself. It was used to store some kind of experimental explosives in the past so we can't just go bomb the place for fear of taking out an entire city block. The enemy has eyes on the ground at all times and from those we can identify, their presence have steadily increased the past week, likely hinting towards a possible attack very soon. We need to move fast. You and I are going to a nearby coffee shop and wait there until one of their eyes show up. Then we take him down and make him talk. We need numbers, layout, and equipment. If at all possible, we are taking them out tonight." Sheppard finished off.

"You mean to tell me that you have nothing on the enemy at this point?" Lightning questioned.

Producing a photo out of his leather jacket, Sheppard sighed and answered, "it's not due to a lack of effort, none of the scouting teams we have sent in so far have gotten credible information. The enemy are a careful bunch. When we got desperate, we sent a couple of them undercover and really up close. This is what happened." He handed Lightning the photo in his hand.

The two scouts were dressed in casual clothing. They were tied at the feet with metal chains and hung up-side-down. Their shirts were peeled back to their heads to the gravity, revealing bruises and cuts - signs of torture. Both of their right wrists where slit and from the pools of blood on the ground below their heads, the two died from the resulting blood loss.

"Flip it over" was all Sheppard offered, Lightning turned over the photo. In the back were the words "PSICOM Scum" scribbled in permanently marker.

"The one on the right, he looks a lot like you. Your brother I take it?" Lightning prodded.

"Twin brother actually." Sheppard was now expressionless. Lightning recognized the tone, it was the same tone she uses when she's suppressing her own emotions.

"Sorry for your loss." Lightning carefully considered her next words before speaking again, "your brother and his partner were clearly interrogated, are you sure..."

"PSICOM intelligence protocol dictates memory wipe in case of capture. When those two got found out, they would have activated their memory wipe implants, even if they wanted to they couldn't have given the enemy anything useful."

"Typical PSICOM" Lightning muttered under her breath.

The two soldiers have made it to the parked velocycle. It was a two passenger model with a secret compartment underneath the driver seat for Lightning's gunblade.

"Hurry up, we don't have all day. I've been dying for some good coffee since this morning."

"Explains the crankiness." Sheppard quipped.


End file.
